Handel's Chair
by Mrs.G.F.Handel
Summary: Chapter 3 up. Melinda never dealt with the spirits of famous people before, until she gets a chair that is supposedly have once belonged to the famous composer George Fredrick Handel. Now the dead composer is following her everywhere. Chapter 3 of 5.
1. Chapter 1

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Forgive me if everyone is out of charter, I'm kind of new at this. Constructive criticism only or I'll use the flames to burn my b/f's bad music.

George F. Handel: Hey!

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Calm down man. You know I love your music.

Handel: XD

**Title**: Handel's Chair

**Fandom**: Ghost Whisperer

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Ghost Whisperer… blah …blah …blah.

**Summary**: Melinda never dealt with the spirits of famous people before, until she gets a chair that is supposedly have once belonged to the famous German-English composer George Fredrick Handel. Now the dead composer is following her everywhere. How will Melinda get him to cross over?

* * *

**Chapter One**

The windows of the Antique Shoppe were opened, which allowed ample light in the once dark room. Melinda felt so alone, especially after her best friend and partner, Andrea, died. At times she found herself crying that maybe she could have prevented it. But she had gone into the light, she was happy now, in a better place. That's all that matters. At least she wasn't with _him_.

Melinda was currently standing at the counter doing paper work when she saw a man in a delivery uniform walk up to the door. Opening the door clumsily he said "are you Melinda Gordon?"

"Yes, my I help you?" She asked.

"I got this delivery from a Kathy Willington from upstate. She heard about you store and wanted to sell this piece furniture."

"Did she say why she wanted me to sell it?" asked Melinda, "Why not a closer place near her?"

"No, but she said she will be down later today to discuss it with you. Will you hold the door open please?"

"Sure" replied Melinda. She quickly walked to the door and held it open.

The delivery man went out and retuned shortly with a large Baroque Style chair on a dollies. It was made of a white material with a dark brown hardwood trim.

"Wow it's so beautiful" said Melinda. "Why would anyone want to get rid of it?"

"I don't know. But she will be here later today, like I said" replied the delivery man. "Well, I got to go, a lot more deliveries to make. Have a good day Ma'am." He tipped his hat and left.

"Have a good day" Melinda called after him.

As Melinda watched him walk down the sidewalk and get into his truck, out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure under one of the many shady trees on that block, right behind the delivery truck. It looked like a man in Baroque clothing and wearing a big, white puffy wig. Before Melinda got a good look at it, the figure was gone. Melinda took another look at the chair. It really was a very beautiful chair. Deciding it looked very comfy, she took a seat. It was very soft, but not so soft that you could not be able to get up again because you're so low that you get stuck.

"I could really enjoy a chair like this," she said.

Suddenly, a great feeling spread over her, as though she had just accomplished something great, as well a sense of a great deal of a calm and a relaxed feeling. It was so powerful, she had to stand up. She did not think much of it, probably just some spirit in a really good mood. Realizing that the chair was right in front of the door, she took the back end and dragged the somewhat heavy chair to a place near the counter.

Across the street, Delia Banks left a shop and made her way to Melinda's. Within moments she was coming through the door.

"I saw the dilivery truck. What did you get?"

"It's a chair. Someone sent it down to have it sold." "Wow, its very beautiful, isint it?"

"Sure is," sayed Melinda.

"Hey, do you want to go shopping later, I have to get a new wardrobe for my boy?"

"Okay, that sounds like fun. Meet you at the coffie shope later?" asked Melinda. "Sure, about 3:00?"

"Sure, I'll go home first then I will see you there."

"Great, I'll see you" Delia smiled and left.

Melinda was realy sarting to have a good day, untill she looked out a window and saw the figure for a second time. This time she saw it more clearly. It was that of a man in his sixties, he had dark shadows under his eyes, paile skin, and looked somewhat confused. Melinda suddenly knew who this sole once was.

"It's impossible" she murmerd. Before Melinda could do anything eilse, he was gone.

TBC…

* * *

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Well, what do you all think? I will update as soon as I can.

Handel: So review or eilse she wont write anymore, right?

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Oh, I'll wrie more, I'll just be nice if people reviewed…

Handel: Please review, it makes her feel good about herself.

Mrs.G.F.Handel: XD


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Wow, sorry for the long wait! College is so much different than high school! I will try to update sooner. And please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Handel: At least you're getting an education.

Mrs.G.F.Handel: True.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Melinda's Grandmother had loved Baroque-Classical music. As a child, her grandmother would play all the recordings from Mozart to Bach, so Melinda knew a few things about musicians. When she saw the figure, she recognized him instantly as George Fredrick Handel.

But it made no sense to her, what unfinished business would a German born English composer, who lived before America was even a country, be doing at her Antique Shoppe?

Jim, unfortunately, knew less than she did. Melinda had gone to visit him at work right after seeing the spirit.

"What do you know about Handel?" Jim asked.

"Well, he was born in Germany and later moved to England and played music for the king. I really don't know anything else. How about you?"

Jim laughed. "You know more than I do. The only thing I know is that he wrote the 'Hallelujah Chorus.'"

Melinda sighed. "Well, I better get moving; I'm meeting Delia in fifteen minutes."

"Okay sweetheart, have a good time." They quickly kissed and Melinda went on her way.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Delia was already waiting for Melinda when she reached the coffee shop. After they had their coffee and talked for a while, they went to the local mini-mall.

They spent most of their time going store to store and talking.

"Well, I say whoever is selling the chair is nuts" said Delia. "It's soft, it's comfy, and it makes you feel like you are on top of the world."

"Yes, I really like it" Melinda replied. "I am going to see the seller in about an hour."

They were just leaving the clothing store when Melinda, not watching where she was going, accidentally ran into someone.

Melinda jumped. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" she asked the young woman, who nearly fell on the floor.

"No, its okay, I'm fine. It's my fault too. See, I'm late for a concert I'm performing at and I was running way too fast. My name is Vicky by the way. Vicky Glade."

"Hi, I'm Melinda Gordon."

"And I'm Delia Banks."

Vicky was about nineteen or twenty years old. She had long red hair, dark eyes, light skin, and a few freckles. She wore a black tank top and white pants and a red wrist band on her right arm.

"Nice to meet the two of you," she smiled. "But I really must be going now." And she started off.

"Okay, nice meeting you, and sorry again" Melinda called after her.

Vicky waved after them.

By now, Melinda had to return back to the store to talk with the person who was selling the chair. Saying goodbye to Delia she made her way back.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Melinda walked into the front door of her shop, felling embarrassed that she ran into someone when she wasn't paying attention.

Sitting down at the front desk, she picked up a magazine and began to read to help pass the time. About fifteen minutes later a middle aged woman walked into the shop. She had short spiked hair that was dyed silver, a pointed face, blue shirt, and yellow pants.

"Hi, I'm Melinda Gordon" said Melinda. "Are you the one selling the chair?"

"Yes, I am. My names Kathy Willington" she replied smiling. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to the point."

Melinda nodded and waited for her to go on.

"You see," said Kathy, "I got this chair from my Mother. She had bought this from an elderly woman at a yard sell. The woman said something interesting, though. She had clamed that the chair had once belonged to the composer George Fredrick Handel."

Melinda's heart stopped. Is that why she saw the composer's ghost, because of a chair?

Kathy, not noticing Melinda's discomfort, continued. "Of course, I never found out for sure. But I like to think it is. You won't mind telling who ever buys this about the story, will you?"

"Sure I'll tell them" assured Melinda, nodding. "But why are you selling it?"

"Well, because I just had my third child. I have been looking for a new home, but I can't afford to bring this with me. I had heard of this place so I decided to bring it here. Would you please sell this to someone who will appreciate the beauty and history as much as I do?"

"Sure thing, I'd be glad to."

"Thank you so much!" replied Kathy, shaking Melinda's hand. "And keep the money, as a tip."

"Okay," said Melinda happily. "Oh, and by the way, before you go, I have a quick question."

"Sure," said Kathy "what is it?"

"Have you noticed anything strange or unusual happen that you couldn't explain?"

Kathy raised an eyebrow. "No, not really. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Never mind."

They said good bye and Kathy left the building.

Melinda turned around and jumped. Standing right in front of her was Handel. He looked from the chair to Melinda.

"Listen, I know who you are," Melinda told him. "Is this why you're still here? Because of your chair?"

Handel was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head and said in a thick German accent "No, this has nothing to do with the chair. It's about my niece."

"Your niece?" asked Melinda, confused.

TBC…

* * *

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Sorry again for the long wait.

Handel: I bet I know who my niece is!

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Shush!


	3. Chapter 3

Mrs.G.F.Handel: I sort of redid chapter one. All I fixed was the layout of the paragraphs so it's more readable. I didn't fix any grammar or spelling mistakes. Oh well. At least it looks nicer.

Handel: Thanks for the reviews! After this chapter, there will be a couple more.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Your niece?" asked Melinda, confused. "Why are you worried about your niece?"

"Her father" Handel said simply.

"What about her father?"

"She needs the same thing I needed" he replied.

"What's that?" Melinda asked. Handel didn't answer. "Well," she said slowly, "what is her name? Do you know where we can find her?"

"I can't remember. I'm so old." And suddenly, he disappeared.

At that time, Delia walked through the door. "Do I dare ask?"

"Don't worry about it" smiled Melinda.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

As soon as work was over for the day, Melinda went to see Professor Payne.

"You've got to be kidding me, Handel!" cried Payne.

"Yes, I saw Handel," said Melinda. "I need your help; you must know something about Handel."

"Oh, so I'm the authority on Baroque composers now, am I? Well guess what? That's not what I do!"

"Okay," said Melinda huffily. "I'll just go to someone else, tell them I can see ghosts, ask them about Handel, and see if they can help me with my ghost. Is that what you want? For me to go someone else?"

"Sure!" insisted Payne. "There is a fantastic music professor down the hallway, Professor Jamie Crawler. Go ask her! I'm sure she will be more than happy to assist you!"

"Okay," said Melinda. She turned around and headed toward the door.

"No, wait!" cried Professor Payne. He quickly ran around his desk and went up to Melinda. "Okay, so I know a few things, but I don't claim to be an expert."

"A few things maybe is all I will need to know."

"So, what exactly do you what to know?" he asked.

"Well, Handel said something about his niece?"

"Hmm, Handel's niece … niece of Handel … I think I have read something about that, hold on." Payne walked over to his bookshelves and rummaged through some magazines. He pick one up and flipped through the pages. "Ah-ha! Here it is!" Folding the magazine in half along the middle he showed an article.

Melinda did a double take. She had recognized the woman in the picture. "Hey, I've seen her before. I ran into her at the mall."

"You've meet Victoria Glade? Do you realize how amazing that is?"

"Why, is she famous?"

"She is not nearly half as famous as Beyoncé or Britney Spears, but she has made a name of herself. She has studied at the local high school. In this article it says that she knows how to play several interments and has played in orchestras."

"It says here that she has done many performances and made recordings."

"Yes, she has done several concerts. Most of her performances have been done around the state. I haven't seen any though."

"Handel also said something about her father and that she needs the same thing that he needed?"

"Ahha. You see, Handel had a diffrant childhood than most other composers. For instance, what does Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and all the other greats have in common?"

"I really don't know" said Melinda.

"Well, they all came from musical familes who encouraged their children to be involved in music as well. On the other hand, Handel's father was the opposite. George Handel Sr. was a barber-surgen and believed his son should be in a more profitable profession, particularly a lawyer. For his entire life Handel hated his father. Perhaps Victoria Glade's father is the same way."

"To have freedom to do the profession she wants. Perhaps that was what Handel was talking about. Do you know where she lives?"

"If I did, I wouldn't tell you. I just like to make things more complicated for you."

"Well, that's very nice of you" Melinda said sarcastically.

"Yes, it is" Professor Payne smirked.

"I should see if I could find anything at the high school she went to. Thanks a lot."

Melinda made her way to the door.

"Wait, can't I go?" Professor Payne asked.

"We might be talking about girl stuff."

"Never mind."

Laughing, Melinda left.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

About fifteen minutes later, Melinda found herself in front of the high school. Classes had just ended for the day, so kids were going in all directions.

Walking in through the front and walking down the hallway, she went to find the main offiace. Almost to her distination, she noticed music coming from one of the rooms. She looked in the room that it was coming from and saw that it was a music room. On the door was a sign that said **Musical Theater**. Under it is stated the teachers name: _Miss. Aird_.

A middle aged woman with a graying hair and glasses was sitting at a piano and plaing a piece that Melinda did not recognize. She quickly assumed it was Miss. Aird because of her piano skills - she was very good.

After a bit she still had not noticed her yet. Melinda slowly made her way in the class and waited. After a while, the woman had finished.

Smiling, Melinda clapped. The woman, finaly noticing her presence, smiled as well. She stood and took a bow.

"Sorry, was I interupting anything?" Melinda asked.

"No, it's okay. I was just finishing up anyway. May I help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you know Victoria Glade."

"Yes, I taught her as a matter of fact. She was in my class for her entire high school career. Very good student. Do you know her?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Melinda could see Handel at the piano.

"I have met her once. Do you where I could find her?"

"Sure, let me write down her address for you," she said. Miss. Aird made her way to her desk to write it down.

"She is as horrible professor. Victoria mostly taught herself. Good girl," said Handel.

"Shh…" whispered Melinda.

"What was that?" asked Miss. Aird.

"Did you just shush me?" asked Handel.

"Nothing," said Melinda.

"No one shushes me of all people."

"Here it is." Miss. Aird had written down the address on a paper. She handed it to Melinda. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, you've been very helpful."

"Of all people…"

… … … … … … … … … … … …

"What are you going to do now?" asked Delia.

Melinda and Delia were shopping at the mall (and unbeknownst to Delia, Handel was there too).

"I have been thinking of going to see Vicky at the auditorium. I wanted to talk to her first before I saw her father. If that chair really did belong to Handel, she should have it."

"It _is_ my chair and it was _my_ idea" Handel growled. "This place smells weird" he said randomly.

Melinda almost laughed as they made their way into the Movie/Game/Music department.

"Speaking of Handel, I kind of started getting more into the classical music genre."

"Oh, really?" Melinda asked.

"Yea, it's interesting. The music, the history. You know, Beethoven went deaf when he was older?"

"Interesting."

"Sounds like a joke, a deaf musician. I'm not one to complain. I went blind."

"Did you know Handel was blind?" Melinda asked.

"Really?!" asked Delia, surprised.

"Yea, he had been in a carriage accident and was left paralyzed. He was able to get better, but not long after that he started going blind."

"Wow, you learn something new everyday. Amazing that he was still able to write music. How did you know that, anyway?"

"Oh, you know. Around." she smiled.

Delia picked up a Mozart CD. "I might get this one" she said.

It was a large silver case that held five CD's. On the back it said which CD had what music on it. On the front was the picture of Mozart. Underneath it read '_250 Years: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart_.'

"He is just a cheap copy of me," said Handel. "Practically stole my and Bach's music. A mere copycat."

"You know, perhaps I'll get this one instead, since we were talking about Handel anyway."

Delia picked up a Handel CD. It read '_Classical Treasures: George Fredrick Handel (1685-1759)_.'

Handle was ecstatic as he, Delia, and Melinda walked to the checkout line.

"When will you go see her?" asked Delia.

"I'll go tomorrow morning. I need to figure out what I'm going to say to her."

"Good idea. You can sleep on it."

Melinda looked at Handel.

"Who needs sleep when you're dead?"

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Later that night, Vicky had found her way to Melinda and Delia's shop. Ever since she ran into them the other day, she could not stop thinking about the weird felling she had around them.

Somehow, she found herself in front of their shop, pressing her nose the glass door, looking into the darkened store. She had her eye on a nice looking chair near the counter. Vicky always had an interest for old fashioned things like antiques. But this chair caught her eye. It looked really nice. It then occurred to her how geeky it sounded that she thought these things were cool. She didn't care all that much.

Handel was standing behind her, watching her. He wanted her to have his chair. It was that chair that he wrote his works, where he spent so many sleepless nights, and where he celebrated his musical victories.

Sighing, Vicky turned around toward Handel. Of course, she could not see him. But somehow she felt he was there. She did not know he really was.

"I wish you were here" she sighed softly, a tear falling down her cheek.

She turned slowly away and made her way back home.

Handel followed her.

"Don't worry, I'll watch over you," he whispered.

TBC…

* * *

Mrs.G.F.Handel: Okay, two more chapters! Please review. 

Handel: XD


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